Blaze: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Delaney Foster

  I approach the podium with a painted-on smile, giving my boss a hug before he takes his seat next to me on the stage. Then I nod to the guests, greeting them with the same smile. Cordial. Rehearsed. Solemn. I should have it down to a science. I’ve had ten years to practice it.

  My eyes scan the group of social climbers with bleach-white teeth and diamond necklaces undoubtedly on loan from Tiffany’s or Cartier until I spot him, the only person in this sea of strangers that matters. Blaze. His copper gaze locks on mine, and my pulse races. I dig my heels into the carpet to keep from running to him. The black and white tuxedo fits him like a glove. These are his people. This is his world. He looks as though he hasn’t shaved in days, and I get it because I haven’t slept in days. My hands twitch with the need to reach out and touch his face, to feel each whisker beneath my fingertips. Then I remember he’s not mine to run to, not mine to touch. I’m not sure he ever was.

  Heartache, like pain, slices through me, and the cigarette stench is back, accompanied by the memories of gravel crushing beneath bald car tires, the itch of bug-bitten legs and head lice, and the chill that comes from sleeping in an abandoned house with broken windows.

  There’s an awkward silence in the room as some of the guests re-fold the cloth napkins in their laps while others clear their throats and adjust their posture. Hundreds of flawless faces stare at me as they wait for me to begin, but I only focus on one. He’s the reason I’m standing here ready to freely give the world the only piece of me it hasn’t stolen yet—my heart. He’s the reason I turned a generic list of bullet points into something personal. He’s the reason I’m here, sweaty palms and shaky breath, trying to save the one person who—I hope—can save me.

  I take a deep breath and force myself out of my own head—the place where the silence is louder than any noise. The only way to get through this is to tell it as if it were someone else’s story, as an outsider looking in.

  Here goes nothing.

  “When I was six years old, my mother taught me how to distract the convenience store cashiers so she could shoplift. At eight years old, I learned how to pretend I was asleep when one of her boyfriends crawled in bed beside me and breathed his whiskey-drenched breath down my neck. By the time I was ten, I learned CPR—the hard way—when I found Sugar passed out on the bathroom floor. When I was twelve, I walked out into the ocean and prayed the waves would take me under and never bring me back. Three days after my fourteenth birthday my mother died.”

  The formal banquet room is so quiet not even a single breath is heard. I close my eyes and hold my breath before I continue. I can’t look at him anymore. My heart can’t bear his judgment. When I open them again, he’s moved all the way to the front of the room, right in front of the stage. His solitary chair sits apart from all the other elaborate round tables. He looks at me, and the earth shatters.

  He’s broken.

  I’m broken.

  We’re broken.

  I swallow the heavy lump in my throat and fight back tears. Suddenly it’s not the past that haunts me anymore. It’s the future.

  “If you’re thinking this is where my story ends, you’re wrong. This is where it begins.” I pick up the stack of note cards Kai left on the podium and straighten them then lay them back down. “The Bryants were my first foster family. I stayed with them for two years. They had a biological child of their own. She was the same age as me, so I hoped we could be friends. We weren’t. Her name was Jane, and she resented me for taking her parents from her. Sometimes I would find spiders in my bed. Other times I would wake up late for school because the setting on my alarm had been changed. She’d hide the feminine products from me every month, so I’d have to…improvise.” I wince at the memory of using toilet paper in place of a pad. Then I thank God for school nurses. “Finally, she found a way to break my heart.” By taking the boy it belonged to. “My next family was great at first. Until his wife got sick and I was suddenly shoved into a role I was way too young to play. I cooked. I cleaned. I took care of buying groceries. I played nurse. I did everything they asked me to do. Mrs. Adams died on a Saturday morning with me sitting at her side. Mr. Adams never forgave me for not trying harder to save her. He said I should’ve called someone. He said I should’ve prayed more. He said he couldn’t stand the sight of me. Then he made me leave.” I blink back tears and clear my throat. Mrs. Adams had been decent. She had been kind. I miss her smile. “I was only with my last family for a few months before I turned eighteen. That was the cut-off age at that time for foster care. The Pattersons had four foster children. The state doesn’t actually pay a lot for foster kids, so they barely had the money to feed us, much less send any of us to college. They kept reminding me that my stay was temporary. Like I didn’t already know, like I wasn’t already counting the days. So far, everything in my life had been temporary.” My eyes find Blaze. “I’m used to temporary.”

  Four years, three families, and only one person ever made me feel wanted. Then she left me.

  I go silent.

  The room is silent.

  I made it. I’m still standing, still breathing, still fighting. Just like I always have. I fought my way through life, through college, through heartache…

  Some people are staring. Some are dabbing their tears with the corner of a linen napkin. But all of them are quiet.

  “Not all stories are like mine. Some… Most are better. Some are worse.” Like Micah’s. “Our goal at Corporate Cares is to make sure every child feels loved, that every child feels wanted, that every child knows they have a family to come home to, a family who cares. Our goal is to help good kids become great adults.” I straighten my spine and smile. “Thank you for coming today. Thank you for letting me tell my story.”

  Someone begins to clap, then the entire room is filled with the sound of applause, but it’s all static. Because Blaze is looking at me as though I’m the only person in this room. Everything else fades away.

  There is him, and there is me. Nothing else matters.

  Kai does an amazing job of wrapping everything up in a neat little bow. He talks about the expenses and benefits and all the details he’s so good at making feel polished. He’s making his way around the room, shaking hands and making friends.

  Blaze makes his way toward me, taking up all the air in the room and making it nearly impossible to breathe. He finally stops in front of me, and I inhale and compose myself. Being this close to him brings back feelings I’ve spent the last two months trying to ignore—feelings of heartache, of rejection, of fear, and of missing him.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you are phenomenal?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, and my heart plummets. “You’re a motherfucking warrior.”

  “Nah. I’m just a girl who’s not afraid of the dark.”

  You don’t want inside my head, Adrienne. It’s too dark for you.

  We stand here, silent and staring, for what seems like a million heartbeats. He doesn’t walk away and neither do I. He rakes his hand through his hair and cups the back of his neck. I prepare myself for an excuse, a reason why I shouldn’t be wanting him to touch me right now.

  He lets out a slow breath. “Adrienne—”

  A tall, thin woman with long brown hair and bright red lips walks up and hooks her hand around his bicep. She smiles up at him, and what’s left of my heart crumbles. The air rushes out of my lungs.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need you over there for a minute,” she says then faces me. “Your story was beautiful. You’re a strong woman for telling it.”

  I’m not nearly as strong as you think. It’s taking all I have just to breathe right now.

  I return her smile. “Thank you.”

  Kai walks up and places his hand at the small of my back. “Can I steal you for a moment? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  I take in a shaky breath and force myself to look away from Blaze. I said goodbye to him once. I can do it again. “Of co
urse. We were just about done here anyway.”

  “No.” Blaze snaps out the word quickly. The urgency in his deep voice makes me shiver. “No. I watched you walk away from me twice, and I’ll be damned if I stand here and watch you do it again.”

  My breath hitches at his words. My gaze tangles with his, and with just one look, I am mush. No one has ever owned me completely with a simple look the way Blaze does. He pulls a pen from his pocket then takes me by the wrist, flipping my hand over to write on my palm. The last time he did this was the first time we met. When he wrote the name of his brewery and told me to bring Liam there to help clean up what he destroyed.

  I glance at the four numbers written in black ink. “What is this?”

  “I destroyed something, and it’s time to start rebuilding it.”

  Two hours later, I’m staring at the door that leads to room 1229. I lift my hand to knock then let it fall back down. Panic curls around my stomach. What if he’s in there with her? Is she “casual”? What does she know about me? I close my eyes and huff a breath. Then I hear the lock click and the door open.

  “I got tired of waiting for you to knock.”

  Every muscle in my body tenses at the sound of his voice. I slowly open my eyes. He’s casually leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. The tuxedo is gone, replaced with loose gray sweatpants and a white V-neck tee. His dark hair is a mess, like he’s spent the last two hours running his fingers through it, and his eyes… behind those eyes is a soul on fire. When he smiles, it’s so perfect it hurts to look at him. He’s so quiet, so still, and he’s watching me with an intensity that burns. God, it burns.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “If I say it out loud, you might run away from me again.”

  “I’m done running.” My voice is a shy whisper, not at all as sure as I want it to sound.

  I mean it. Whatever is going to happen between us will happen now. He will either tell me he wants me, or he wants her, or he wants nothing at all. I’m ready for it. I have to be. I can’t keep living with the pain.

  He raises his eyebrows. “You sure about that? ’Cause it looked like that’s exactly what you were about to do.”

  “I wasn’t going to run. I just… I was just thinking too.”

  He wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me into him. His head dips down to the curve of my neck. His lips brush my throat as he breathes me in. “Say you didn’t mean it.”

  God, the sadness in his voice is unbearable. I can’t deal with the sadness. I give in to the need to touch him and grab the back of his head, letting my fingers get lost in his hair. I lay my forehead against his shoulder and let myself get drunk on his clean scent.

  “That I didn’t mean what?”

  His mouth moves to my ear. “When you said goodbye.”

  My stomach dips. I shake my head and try to step back, but he grips my waist tighter. “This isn’t right. You have someone.”

  “The only someone I have is you, Adrienne.” He lifts his head to look my in the eyes then brushes his knuckles across my cheek. “Tell me I still have you.” The desperation in his tone brings a lump to my throat.

  I swear I’m not going to cry. I don’t want him to let me go. I want him to hold me like this forever. “What about the woman from earlier?”

  “Blaire? That’s Levi’s fiancée.” He brings his other hand to my ass and drags me even closer then presses his forehead to mine. “I need to hear you say it. I need to know it’s not too late. That I didn’t fuck this up.” His voice is rough. His breath brushes over my face. I can almost taste him. I want to taste him.

  Suddenly, it’s as if the past two months never happened. As if we’re picking up right where we left off that night in my apartment when we watched The Golden Girls and ate chow mein. As if the time and space between us never existed.

  I run my thumb over his lips. “It’s not too late.” I kiss one corner of his mouth. “I was lying when I said goodbye.” I kiss the other corner. “And you still have me. You’ve always had me.”

  His mouth brushes mine with the softest touch, and I surrender to it, to him, to this. My hands slide down and clutch the fabric of his T-shirt. I part my lips, letting his tongue inside. My fists curl in his shirt, pulling him closer as his kiss grows harder and deeper, raw and demanding. It says all the things words could never convey.

  I missed you.

  I need you.

  I’m sorry.

  He cups my ass with both hands and lifts me off my feet. My legs circle his waist as he walks backward into the room, kicking the door shut. Our teeth clash, and he bites my bottom lip then pushes his tongue against mine again. We both fall onto the bed, me on my back with him between my legs.

  He pulls back with a groan. His tongue traces my swollen lips. His breath is heavy and hard. “I’ve thought about this at least a thousand times.” His hands slide up my waist, slipping my T-shirt over my head. Then he leans down and kisses me again.

  “Only a thousand?” I ask against his mouth.

  My hands slip beneath his T-shirt and up his back. He lifts up and lets me pull the shirt over his head.

  His eyes rake over me. “We can go slow.”

  I reach inside the waistband of his pants. “I need you. Inside me. Right now.” He growls a “Fuck yeah” against my neck when I wrap my hand around his cock.

  He slides a finger under my bra straps and guides them off my shoulders. Then he peppers my skin with kisses as he moves one hand behind my back and unhooks the clasps. My hand is still wrapped around him, pumping, stroking, firm and slow. I swipe my thumb over the tip. He’s so perfect, all thick veins and smooth head. He breathes harder against my skin and brings his mouth to my nipple as he pushes my bra away. I arch into him because God, he’s good at making me feel like I’m floating. He hooks a finger in each side of my leggings and slides them off along with my panties in one smooth move.

  Then he’s touching me. Teasing me. Running his finger up and down, spreading me open but never going inside. I clench the sheets and push my hips into his hand.

  “Please, Blaze.”

  “You don’t get to say goodbye to me ever again.” He flicks my clit and I tremble underneath him.

  As soon as he pulls his pants off, I guide him to my entrance. He pushes into me hard, no easing, no teasing, just a strong, aggressive thrust. Taking what belongs to him. Punishing me for saying the word in the first place. He grips my hips and drives into me. Harder. Deeper. I dig my heels into his back and meet him pound for pound.

  Our bodies are covered in sweat. He’s breathless. I’m breathless. He lets go of my hips and takes my hands and pins them above my head, locking his fingers with mine. He buries his face in my neck, slowing his pace and catching his breath.

  He makes this sound, this utterly manly growl from low in his throat as he moves in, and out, and in, and out. So achingly slow. So incredibly deep. Hitting that spot over and over until I don’t think I can take it anymore.

  “You feel this?” he asks, and I answer with a moan. “This isn’t nothing.” He looks at me and I’m lost, doomed for all eternity because I know no other man will ever compare to him. “This… this is every-fucking-thing.”

  Tears spill down my cheeks as that familiar tingle builds and builds deep down. “Come apart for me, babygirl. Let me have you.” He thrusts into me again then leans down and brings his mouth to my neck. “Let me love you.”

  His words send me over the edge. I lose control, and he loses it with me.

  It’s not until he collapses beside me, panting and staring at the ceiling, that I realize we didn’t use a condom.

  We lie here, naked, legs tangled, him on his back with my head on his shoulder while we stare at the ceiling and enjoy the sound of each other’s heartbeats. I slide my hands over his sculpted chest, down his stomach, tracing every defined line and crease with
my fingertip. “Can I ask you something?”

  He draws tiny circles on my upper arm. “Anything but math. I suck at math.”

  God, I’ve missed this man.

  “Why did you leave? I mean, I understood you not wanting me—”

  He flips to his side and pins me with a stare. “Never, not for one fucking second, have I ever not wanted you.”

  “But—”

  He props up on one elbow. “I had to make you believe that. It was the only way to protect you.”

  “Protect me from what?”

  “From my father.” He trails a finger from my shoulder to my elbow. His eyes travel from my face to my bare breasts to the sheet covering the lower half of our bodies. I almost think he’s done talking, that those three words are the only explanation I’m going to get. Then he licks his lips. “My dad has been after me for years to go back home. He has this idea that he’s going to retire, and I’m going to take over.”

  “Is that what you want?” Is that why you left everything? Is that why you left me?

  “Fuck no. The last thing in this world I want to be is another Chase Abbott.” Bitterness laces his words. It radiates off his body. But you still left. “He used the sponsorship as blackmail. He threatened to pull his part of the donation and to tell Kai you were involved with Mal.”

  That’s what he was protecting me from.

  “Kai would never have believed it. I had nothing to do with Mal.”

  “I know that. You know that. But it’s kind of hard to call the guy writing you a two-hundred-thousand-dollar check a liar.” Okay, score one for Old Man Abbott. Blaze runs his fingertip across my collarbone and over my breast, stopping at my nipple. “I know how much you care about your job, about the boys. I couldn’t let you lose everything.”